


Faster

by DominaRegina



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: F/F, HaruMichi, Smut, Yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 16:04:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20585198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DominaRegina/pseuds/DominaRegina
Summary: Haruka breaks records on and off the track.





	Faster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [syuuri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/syuuri/gifts).

Winning the Monaco Grand Prix was easy. Too easy for the senshi who commanded the very element that guided her racecar around the circuit. Racing, by vehicular or physical means, was second nature to the scion of wind. 

Winning the race was so easy, in fact, that Haruka was daydreaming as she crossed the finish line and broke the record for fastest lap. Her mind hadn’t been on the track, her opponents, or her car at all; rather, she was thinking about her biggest fan, sitting in the front row by the finish line. 

Michiru stood out like a sore thumb whenever she came to watch Haruka race. Not because of her wavy teal hair that Haruka never tired of touching. But because there was an air of style and sophistication about her that far outpaced the most posh racing fans. Michiru’s posture and aura indicated that she belonged at a fine arts gallery or an exorbitant black tie event. Her cerulean eyes watched the race with an unwavering expression that others might mistake for detachment. 

Haruka knew better. Michiru wore the calm facade of confidence. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that her eternal partner would drive circles around the competition. Such unfaltering certainty did not warrant shouting or hanging onto the edge of her seat. 

If Haruka could pinpoint Michiru’s location while driving hundreds of miles per hour, the paparazzi would have no trouble doing so. The second Haruka crossed the finish line, they swarmed Michiru like bees to honey, vying to be the first reporter to speak to Haruka’s infamous partner. 

Haruka didn’t have it any better. Her legs weren’t even out of the car before microphones were shoved in her face and reporters were assaulting her with the same boring questions. 

Still riding the adrenaline high granted by victory and speed, Haruka took it all in stride. She removed her helmet, shook out her cropped bangs, and responded to the praise and questions as politely as possible. 

Michiru eventually made her way towards Haruka and watched from a safe distance behind the swarm. 

“How does it feel to break the lap time record for the Monaco Grand Prix?”

Haruka flashed the ESPN anchor her trademark, handsome smile. “I don’t concern myself with record setting or breaking. When I start my car, I focus on driving the best that I possibly can…”

The star driver continued with her robotic response until her eyes locked with Michiru’s. There was pride in her steady gaze, but something else as well. Another sensation that permeated the atmosphere between them. It wasn’t relief, or satisfaction. More like confident seduction, knocking the breath from Haruka’s lungs and the coherent thoughts from her brain. 

As she stuttered to retrieve her train of thought, Michiru flashed a self-satisfied smirk and disappeared. 

Haruka had a feeling Michiru would be waiting for her back at their hotel room, wearing either expensive, revealing lingerie, or nothing at all. The thought shattered her sensibilities and made her face hot. 

After stumbling through another hour’s worth of interrogations, all the while hoping her face wasn’t giving away her wandering thoughts about Michiru, Haruka was relieved to be in the privacy of her dressing room. With an exhausted sigh, she dropped her helmet on the wooden bench running parallel to the row of lockers. 

Haruka locked the door behind her and leaned against it long enough to wipe her sweaty bangs and collect her thoughts. Keeping up appearances for the public and her fans was exhausting at times. She would never understand how Michiru took it all in stride, never batting an eyelash or losing her temper. Out of the two of them, the painter and musician was better suited for the rich and famous lifestyle. 

Thinking of Michiru spurred Haruka back into action. Haruka unfastened the collar of her driving suit and contemplated taking a shower. The one-piece suits were suffocating, and often made her sweat as she sat inside her car beneath the midday sun. Michiru would be fresh and clean, like always, and deserved more than a sweaty mess in bed. 

After making up her mind, Haruka nodded. “Shower it is.”

Haruka hadn’t managed to release the velcro cuffs on her racing gloves before someone was knocking at her door. 

“Who could that be?” Haruka grumbled to herself. Her patience for the paparazzi was tapped out by now. All she wanted was to return to the lavish hotel room where Michiru, and hopefully dinner, awaited. 

Haruka turned the lock in the doorknob. Expecting to see another reporter, she plastered a charming, crooked grin on her face. Once the lock clicked, the person on the other side let themselves in.

Haruka felt her presence before laying eyes on her; the tranquil sea, now churning with a deep desire that washed away the sweat, grime, and diesel of the racetrack. 

“Michiru? What are you doing here?” Haruka tilted her head. 

Michiru shut and locked the door behind her. Her short stature betrayed her dominating presence. The violinist strolled past Haruka with a mischievous glare, acting as if she owned the room. “I can’t come visit my partner in her dressing room?” 

“I thought you went back to the hotel, that’s all.” Haruka gulped while watching Michiru’s slow cantor around her locker room. Just like when she observed from the sidelines, Michiru was an odd adornment. This dressing room, while extravagant by racetrack standards, was still leagues behind the private changing rooms she had access to while touring with Marine Cathedral. 

“I didn’t want to wait any longer.” Michiru came full circle. She stood before Haruka and began to remove her gloves. Haruka’s wrist and fingers went limp as she watched Michiru slowly peel off the canvas gloves. 

Haruka knew better than to assume otherwise, but she hoped Michiru wasn’t proposing what she thought she was proposing. While the couple had made love in countless dressing rooms around the world, those were always Michiru’s spaces. Classy, comfortable rooms with lounge space, couches, and sometimes even beds. Not bare bones dressing rooms with no furnishings outside of wooden benches and shower stalls, saturated with the scent of men’s sweat and body spray that never quite disappeared, no matter how thoroughly it was cleaned. 

“I was going to go shower,” Haruka weakly objected to Michiru’s unspoken intentions. 

“You are peerless,” Michiru crooned as if she hadn’t heard Haruka speak. “Watching you in your element. It’s almost unbearable.”

Haruka shrugged. “Not any different than you with the violin. Or painting. Or swimming. I feel like there’s nothing you can’t do.”

“I can’t beat world records on racetracks,” Michiru pointedly answered while yanking off Haruka’s second glove. 

Something about Michiru’s firm tone made Haruka chuckle nervously. She scratched the back of her head with the hand not claimed by her lover. “Well, have you ever tried?”

Michiru glared up at Haruka with a look the racer knew all too well. A silent command, signifying that she was through with words. The shorter woman reached up and pulled the zipper of Haruka’s suit down to her navel, revealing the figure-hugging white undershirt Haruka wore underneath. 

“M-Michiru?” Haruka felt her will wavering as Michiru’s hands crept up her front, languidly wandering toward her shoulders. Despite herself, Haruka shrugged her shoulders out of her racing suit at Michiru’s behest. 

“Hmm?” The violinist whispered before her lips found Haruka’s exposed clavicle. 

Chills crept up Haruka’s back as Michiru’s cool breath blew across her neck. “We’re… This isn’t… very private.”

“It isn’t any less private than my dressing room in Venice… and you were very willing to take me on the couch, if I remember correctly.”

Michiru’s hands traveled south, aiming for the waistband of Haruka’s shorts and the prize hiding inside them. 

“But-but that was different. This is…” unable to find the appropriate words, Haruka gestured to their surroundings. 

Michiru disengaged enough to look up at Haruka’s unsure face. She clicked her tongue and shook her head with a faint smile. 

“Ruka… This part of you. The sweaty, oily…” Her hand slipped inside the waistband of Haruka’s shorts and fondled the cock she knew would be there. 

Haruka always bound her breasts and wore a piece whenever she participated in sports. Binding her breasts and having the extra weight between her legs grounded her; helped focus the masculine energy she channeled while competing. 

“...And masculine,” Michiru continued with a tug that made Haruka whimper, “I think you still don’t understand how much I love it.”

Before Haruka could object, Michiru pushed her with the strength of a soldier. Haruka’s rear landed on the low, narrow bench. Her legs straddled the sturdy strip of wood beneath her. She sat upright, barely regaining her balance before Michiru was sitting on her lap. 

“I wonder…” Michiru began while hiking up her skirt. Dazed, and still not accepting that they were really going to do this, here, Haruka stared with wide eyes as Michiru momentarily exposed the shaft before shielding it with her billowing navy skirt. 

“Wonder…” Haruka lazily repeated, letting Michiru guide one of her hands to the moist cavern hiding beneath her skirt. Haruka felt no undergarments; only slick, eager lips impatiently waiting to consume her cock. 

The physical realization of how much Michiru craved this, and how she must have fantasized about this the entirety of the race, snapped Haruka from her daze. 

Without waiting for Michiru to continue her thought, Haruka slid two fingers inside of her seductive mistress. A deep, throaty groan filled the silence. “What do you wonder, love?”

Michiru tried bucking her hips against Haruka’s ministrations, but the stronger senshi held her firm with only one hand. 

Delighted by Haruka’s newfound desire, Michiru gazed down at her with a heady smile. “I wonder, how fast you can go… while wearing this?”

Haruka chuckled. She had no choice but to accept the challenge. Without breaking eye contact, she slickened the shaft’s tip with Michiru’s juices. In one fluid motion, she pulled Michiru’s hips down onto the phallus until it disappeared inside of her. 

“Ah…” Michiru happily sighed. 

“You want fast?” Haruka leaned back, anchoring herself on the bench by grabbing either side with her hands. “Let’s set another record today.”

A satisfied trill morphed into a cry of ecstasy as Haruka made good on her word. Relying on the superior strength of her legs and core, Haruka thrust inside of Michiru with an intensity she never before dared. Her hips rose harder and faster, pushing herself further each time she felt Michiru crashing against her. 

The sea goddess’ moans hypnotized Haruka. In these minutes, and countless times before, the wind senshi lost herself in Michiru’s ecstasy. She would sacrifice everything, time and time again, to fulfill each and every one of Michiru’s desires. 

“Faster!” Michiru commanded between pitched cries. Haruka was already sweaty and grunting with effort. 

As always, she obeyed. 

Enveloped in Michiru’s lust and her exertion, Haruka was incapable of tracking the time or thrusts. Her limbs were already trembling, but the sensation of her muscles begging for release was cleansed by Michiru’s begging. It was easy to disregard her own discomfort when in the service of the sea queen. 

“Faster!” Michiru’s voice was hoarse, but Haruka heard the command. 

“Michiru!” Haruka’s hips rocked faster than she thought possible. Just as Haruka thought her legs would revolt, she felt Michiru’s body collapse into her. 

A melodic serenade of fulfilled desires, Haruka’s favorite sound, met her ears as Michiru unraveled around her. Haruka felt the hot trickle around the base of the shaft, and the quivering of Michiru’s thighs against hers. 

“Oh… Gods…” Michiru’s voice was strained, but Haruka could hear the satisfaction in it. 

Haruka sat upright. With tenderness opposing their rough lovemaking, she adjusted Michiru on her lap and cradled Michiru’s head in the crook of her neck. Their hearts thudded against each other, unable to calm down in each other’s presence. Haruka felt the euphoric thrumming of Michiru’s crystal from deep inside of her being. 

“Was that fast enough for you?” Haruka whispered while stroking Michiru’s hair. 

“Mmm…” A soft purr replied. 

The couple sat together on the bench in blissful silence for a few minutes. Michiru was surprisingly docile. Haruka knew a quickie on a bench was not enough to completely satisfy her lover, whose thirst seemed unquenchable, but she waited before making her next move. 

Once her breathing returned to normal, Haruka moved her hand from Michiru’s hair down to the buttons on her blouse. With one hand, Haruka deftly unfastened every button until the lace cups of Michiru’s bra and the silky, pale skin of her belly were revealed. 

“You’re so beautiful… This still doesn’t feel real sometimes,” Haruka solemnly whispered while staring at the soft curves around Michiru’s navel. 

“What’s more real than this?” Michiru cupped Haruka’s face in her hands. Haruka stared into her glazed, sedated cerulean eyes. Their lips gravitated toward each other, taking their time after their rushed copulation. 

As their lips touched, Haruka took advantage of Michiru’s lethargic state. She caressed the familiar, inviting skin on Michiru’s body. There was no resistance as she slipped Michiru’s top off, and then unclasped her bra. Sea breeze and salt enticed and relaxed Haruka. This was when she was most at ease: kissing, tasting, and touching her eternal partner. 

Michiru was right. Nothing was more real than this. 

Haruka reached her hands around Michiru’s back, locating the zipper holding her skirt in place. Deciding they weren’t going to get much further in this position, and noticing the sudden soreness in her muscles, Haruka held Michiru tight to her and stood. Michiru squealed, wrapping her legs around Haruka’s waist as the taller woman carried her with little effort. 

Haruka swung a long leg over the side of the bench. Her one-piece racing suit, which had remained bunched around her waist as she sat, crumpled to the floor. Haruka stepped out of it, grateful to be free of its stifling heat. 

As much as Haruka enjoyed carrying her petite partner, they would never finish undressing if Michiru didn’t release her. Lips still locked, Haruka reached an arm around and gently pressed Michiru’s legs away from her waist. Michiru released a playful groan into her mouth, but relented. Haruka leaned into her touch, letting Michiru finish undressing her as she had countless times before. 

Undressing in such a sexually charged way in her dressing room felt different, somehow. Now that they had already made love once, Haruka was more at ease. For whatever reason, Michiru was completely into having sex in a dirty men’s locker room, and Haruka was committed to helping her fulfill this fantasy. 

Michiru removed Haruka’s t-shirt, letting it fall to the floor on top of the suit. She took care with Haruka’s bindings, freeing Haruka’s breasts as gently as possible. Haruka took a deep breath as her breasts were released. 

“I suppose we’ll have to remove this, too…” Michiru hummed as her fingers unbuckled the harness. Haruka’s shorts and the extra weight of the phallus fell away. If Michiru was done with it, Haruka imagined she had something else planned. 

“Now will you shower with me?” Haruka asked as she slipped Michiru’s skirt down to her ankles. 

Michiru pretended to consider the notion while silently ogling Haruka’s naked body. The pair stole a minute to appreciate the wonder of their partner’s physical form. 

“I don’t think we’re dirty enough to warrant a shower just yet…” Michiru hinted before pulling Haruka’s face down for another kiss. 

Haruka couldn’t help but grin against Michiru’s mouth. As expected, her salacious lover wasn’t done with her yet. 

Minutes ago, Haruka couldn’t stand the thought of making love to her pristine water goddess in a men’s locker room. Now she found herself bending like a reed against Michiru’s desires; Haruka did not utter so much as a word of resistance as Michiru smoothed her suit on the floor and guided the racer to lay her naked body on top of it. 

An initial wave of discomfort constricted Haruka’s nerves, but Michiru’s soft curves pressing against her alleviated her concerns. Michiru wanted this, and that was all that mattered. 

“Let’s go slower, now,” Michiru suggested. 

Haruka caught a glimpse of her fathomless eyes, now brimming with sedation but also anticipation, before Neptune’s face disappeared from sight. A warm tongue primed the most sensitive spot on her neck before a pair of teeth sank into her flesh. 

“Ow!” Haruka instinctively exclaimed. She gripped Michiru’s wide hips hard, focusing on the pain outlet until Michiru began sucking on the flesh of her neck, replacing the initial pain with pleasure. 

Slower, but not gentler. 

“Too rough?” Michiru teased as she adjusted her lower body. 

“N-no.”

Haruka arched her back, feeling the cement floor through the makeshift blanket. Slick, wet warmth pressed against her exposed sex. It had been easy to disregard her own arousal while she was making Michiru climax. But now that the roles were reversed, the persistent throbbing between her legs was unbearable. She wasn’t about to say or do anything that might cause Michiru to stop. 

“Good,” Michiru purred. Her mouth relented from Haruka’s lips, releasing cool, tantalizing breaths down Haruka’s chest until settling on her left areola. 

“Ah…” Haruka responded to the teeth again. With the element of surprise gone, the sensation was not as startling. Michiru knew exactly how much pressure to apply; not only to Haruka’s pert nipples, but her clitoris as well. 

A slow, rhythmic grind began. Being in the dominant position, Michiru took the lead, allowing Haruka to relax as their buds rubbed against one another. Michiru’s mouth and teeth were unrelenting, pinning Haruka to the floor with escalating madness. 

Haruka didn’t know how she managed to ignore her arousal before. But now, with the sea goddess fully intent on bringing her to climax, Haruka wouldn’t disappoint her. 

“That feels good…” Haruka sighed as pleasure rippled through her body. Wanting nothing more than to watch her eternal lover’s face, she forced her upper body onto her elbows. 

Michiru’s serene features slightly winced. A small shudder racked her shoulders. She was trying to conceal her pleasure from their shared stimulation, and the thought made Haruka chuckle. Hiding orgasms was perhaps the only lie Michiru was incapable of telling. 

“Something funny?” Michiru arched an eyebrow while inching her face closer. The sweet notes of her breath, and the scent of her ocean breeze shampoo, warmed Haruka’s heart. 

Haruka offered a crooked grin. “Like I said. Just doesn’t feel real sometimes.”

Overwhelming affection flooded Michiru’s face. Haruka almost thought she was going to cry. Michiru instigated another kiss: slow, romantic, purposeful. The sort of kiss where Haruka could feel Michiru’s soul pouring into hers, melding their warrior spirits as well as their bodies. 

Every fiber of Haruka’s being yearned to be with Michiru like this. The golden crystal in her chest sang with delight as their kissing intensified. Michiru increased the friction between their bodies, enough to make Haruka cry into her mouth for more. 

The slow crescendo was delightful torture. Haruka pressed her hips up into Michiru as much as she allowed. She grabbed Michiru’s buttocks in both hands, pinning their eager sexes against each other. 

“Together?” Michiru prompted. 

Haruka nodded and took the opportunity to look into Michiru’s eyes yet again. “Together.”

The heavenly surge of absolute pleasure returned. Michiru knew the precise angle to arch her hips as she humped Haruka beneath her. Michiru was wet, almost too wet, sliding with ease and mingling their juices until it was impossible to tell their bodies apart. 

“Mmm… Michiru…” Haruka anticipated her climax before it arrived by the almost unbearable throbbing and the burst of white light behind her eyes, followed by her loud moans as her head fell against the floor. “Oh! Ahh… Michi!”

“Gods, Ruka!” Michiru simultaneously called out in a higher pitch. Everything was hazy, but the wind senshi vaguely felt Michiru’s body collapsing on top of hers. 

“I… wow.” Words escaping her, Haruka decided to lay still and enjoy the pleasurable afterglow dulling her senses. 

“Hmm… That was nice,” Michiru crooned. 

The weight of Michiru’s body disappeared. Haruka lifted her head to see what she was up to, but she felt it first. Two fingers slipping into her entrance, fondling the contracting muscles in her vaginal walls. 

“I don’t think you’re dirty enough…” Michiru salaciously teased while stroking Haruka’s swollen gland. 

“Ungh… Michi,” Haruka rasped, using the pet name Michiru only allowed during moments like this. 

Haruka could feel her lower body covered in Michiru’s sweet cum. They were plenty dirty— but Haruka knew better than to argue with Michiru. She focused on the maddening, intentful strokes inside of her, wishing Michiru would stop with the teasing. 

“Yes, Ruka?” 

“Stop… teasing me.” Haruka’s breath shook. 

“What’s the matter?” Michiru purred while continuing to stroke Haruka with menacing tenderness. “Would you like me to go faster?”

The irony was not lost on Haruka. She knew if she said no, Michiru would keep her on the cusp of release until she relented. And Haruka needed this—needed to uncoil, to fall apart, to melt into grains of sand to be blown away by the wind. 

And so, without putting on a show of bluster for the only woman in the galaxy who couldn’t be fooled by her acts of pride, Haruka meekly nodded. “Faster.”

A switch was flipped. The fingers inside of her pumped harder and faster, never moving away from her frustratingly sensitive G-spot. 

Haruka wanted to grab Michiru’s face, her waist, anything; but she was forced to use her arms to keep herself upright. Her chest heaved and her neck blossomed with heat as an even more intense orgasm than the first took hold deep in her belly. 

“Faster!” Haruka repeated, louder and more demanding. 

Michiru obeyed. Her fingers gained purchase, rising Haruka’s hips off the floor. The sea goddess knew Haruka’s body better than she; for her moans of delight filled the room before Haruka’s orgasmic screams. 

Sailor Uranus collapsed in a satisfied heap on the floor, oblivious to her surroundings for a few clandestine minutes. All she felt were Michiru’s arms wrapping around her waist, followed by a warm, soft body cuddling against hers. 

One of Haruka’s hands found Michiru’s curls splayed across the floor. She absently stroked them, listening to the cadence of Michiru’s soft breaths until her wits returned. 

“You should’ve told me about this fantasy years ago…” Haruka’s hoarse voice whispered in amusement. 

“Hmmm,” Michiru noncommittally responded. Her fingers traced Haruka’s abs, circling her pronounced midriff. “Ready for that shower now?”

“Yeah,” Haruka agreed, but made no effort to move. 

This was real. Their lovemaking was real. Their irreplaceable bond that transcended space, time, and mortality… It was all real. 

“So…” Michiru sat up at length and looked down at Haruka with a smile that made her nervous. “Do you think you can go faster next time?”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy belated birthday Syuuri!


End file.
